The diction of ecstasies

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Its just, he was alone
for all those nights..
a hate.. for lives,
that he has, lived..
howling for his dreams
confined to his fears,
suppressing his tears..
he used to choke,
while trying to speak..
as if its ripping his throat,
but still he carved..
for another reason,
to cut it apart..
don’t know why,
he didn’t want to die..
from dusk till dawn,
heard him pray..
just for another day..
and on the day,
when he woke up..
and found the haze
‘n the fog inside,
The curtains wet..
windows open..
doors ajar..
has it rained.. ?
perhaps he cried..
last night… he, who died..!

I dreamt, a book..
torn and dusty..
a way written,
a way empty..
perhaps, was alive..
‘Words’ in it, screams
but not as it seems..
they ask, they bleed..
they hurt, they cry..
but never they lie,
they are not just the words,
trapped in the wood..
not ’bout the crowd
or ’bout the lonelihood..
words from you,
and then ’bout..
those thirsty swollen eyes..
things were written,
imbrued with sobs,
scared, tired and bitten..
by each discrete names,
were carved faces..
embossed to their frames
tattered on other pages..
solemnly.. folded were,
few edges..
I’ve tried to unfold..
wondering who read it, before ?
but then no longer
could hold..
was awaken.. by the pair of
bleeding eyes..

GOD ! was that a dream,
why could I still hear the scream ?
who were those eyes ?
who has folded, those pages ?
why were, familiar..
those faces ?

One fine winter night..
looking for nothing..
walking down the road,
all alone, on my own..
I thought, I knew..
The skies, stars ‘n the moon..
‘n every things around,
suddenly I realized..
how dead they felt to me now..
there was time,
they use to talk to me..
now all i hear is..
their frozen silence,
dispersed and diffused in me..
frigid to my steps..
I wonder if it’s the temperature
or it’s their queering eyes..
that infusing,
this chill to my very soul
rigid as never before,
I turned my back to them..
hoping they won’t see
the numb ‘n the stranger in me ..
no matter what I’ve tried..
they already knew..
what I’ve lived,
and where I could hide..
silent as the grave,
a minute before..the night
now yelling,
in its freezing tone..

My tears grew for more shine,
i celebrated it,
bleeding red wine..
something was burning inside..
ripping with all ease,
it has it’s deepest sharp..
rending, scorching my heart,
what has died inside..?

“no more running..
no where to go,
‘n no more hide..”

doom ? or should call it destination..
no more pretending…
yeah ! can see no one standing
it’s just me, gazing in the dark..
waiting to go numb,
what’s left behind..
a soul that lingers,
that dwell across heart..
I’ve made it glow,
‘n now its dripping out of my veins..
to make the flow,
then no more hurting,
no burning.. no scorching..

you may call.. it insane,
i say it “the stigmata”
of a ruptured soul..
away from the pain..!!!

I tried to play the song..“Baby when you’re gone..”
Cleared the dust..
tuned.. my guitar,
tied the chords..
hit the strings..
hell.. that too sounds like
the broken thing..
like a ruptured soul,
with broken wings…
then I sung the next line

“days go on ‘n on
and night seems so long”

Picked up the pencil..
and the kit, tried to sketch
the beauties around..
my barren harvest..
the torment dusk
but no dawn..
hell.. that’s all, I could find..

“oh, this is torture, this is pain,
it feels like I’m gonna go insane”

my broken woes..
torn, horrid sketches..
the broken string..
and that song,
like the husky..
whisper in the distance..